The Many Reincarnations of Col. Michael Goleniewski
by Revilo P. Oliver
A LONE man’s struggle to remain afloat for a little while in the welter of the shoreless sea of life often seems to us pathetic, for ours is the sentimental race. That is why we normally extend even to scoundrels, if they are amiable and not malicious, a charity that we refuse to the pretentious individuals who profess a wisdom that entitles them to be leaders whom we must devotedly follow.
A recent episode, involving an immigrant for whom many may feel a certain compassion, would be too trivial to mention, were it not a datum of great significance in a psychological study of the contemporary American “right wing,” a motley saraband of anxious, confused, and frightened men and women who, in groups that range from a few dozen to thirty thousand, follow a hundred self-appointed messiahs, each of whom is bawling out his claims to be the unique savior of our benighted nation.
In January 1961 there arrived in the United States a Pole who had apparently been an officer of high rank in the Secret Police of the Bolshevik province of Poland, and who had defected after having served for some time as a double-agent for an American espionage agency, presumably the C.I.A. He bore the name and title of Colonel Michael Goleniewski (pictured) and established his identity with an evidently genuine certificate that recorded his birth in Poland, to parents who bore the slightly different name of Goleniowski, on August 16, 1922. The date, at least, was supported by his features and physique, which made it obvious that he was a healthy man of Slavic ancestry about forty years old.
The defector was certainly well informed about the networks of spies and saboteurs that the Bolsheviks maintain in all civilized counties they have not yet annexed. Very reliable American sources aver that all the verifiable information given by Goleniewski was found to be strictly accurate, and he is credited with having caused the flight or suicide or arrest and conviction of at least fifteen Soviet agents who were ensconced in strategic positions in the intelligence services of England, Sweden, and Germany, notably George Blake, Kim Philby, Colonel Wennerstrom, and Kolon Molody (alias Gordon Lonsdale). That he was solely or principally responsible for the exposure of those traitors is universally admitted.
According to two American civilians who were able to meet Goleniewski while he was hidden in an apartment in New York City under an assumed name, his knowledge of Bolshevik operations was even more extensive, and he, on his arrival in this country, had been dismayed and terrified to find among the high officials of the C.I.A. several men whom he knew to have equal or higher rank in the Soviet K.G.B. This was entirely plausible and even probable, for reasons that could not be set forth here without a very long exposition of the organization and operation of modern intelligence agencies in general and of our monstrous C.I.A. in particular, in which what amounted to a civil war began the day it was organized.
For three years the presence of the defector in this country was kept secret, and the few persons who knew him at that time agree that he was subjected to a kind of persecution by the C.I.A. The income promised him was never paid. Money for his support was doled out so grudgingly that he and his newly acquired American wife were often left penniless, desperate and without needed medical care. He was even deprived of the revolver given him to defend himself from Soviet agents who might carry out the death sentence that had been imposed after his defection. He also required protection, his friends believed, from an arm of the C.I.A., which intended to murder him inconspicuously to protect the Soviet agents whom he had recognized. If such were the facts, Goleniewski’s life was saved by two men who ripped open the curtain of official secrecy.
Mr. Guy Richards, one of the ranking editors of the now defunct New York Journal-American, devoted a long series of ably written feature articles to Goleniewski, recounting the defector’s great services to the United States and the Western world, and intimating that he had much more to tell, if given adequate protection and allowed to do so. The Journal-American at that period had a circulation of the more than 600,000; some of the articles were picked up by other Hearst papers; and the substance of the story was reported, more or less extensively, by a number of independent newspapers. Mr. Frank Capell, who operates a kind of private intelligence service for American “conservatives” and is highly esteemed for the scope and accuracy of his information, espoused Goleniewski’s cause in his Herald of Freedom, a newsletter small in bulk and circulation but read by Americans of prestige and influence, including members of both houses of the Congress. This publicity on two levels won for Goleniewski not only the strong sympathies of many Americans of patriotic inclinations, but forced his appearance before a Congressional committee, where he gave testimony, some of it published in the Congressional Record, while parts of it that are reputed to be “dynamite” were consigned to yet unreleased “executive” files. Goleniewski, furthermore, was paid the high tribute of formal praise and a vote of thanks by the House (Eighty-Eighth Congress, H. R. 5507). He had been made a public figure who could not be suicided or otherwise murdered by technicians of the C.I.A. without precipitating a public scandal and possible inquiry into that ambiguous agency’s multiplex operations. If his life had been in danger, it was effectivelv saved bv Messrs. Richards and Capell.
So far, so good. And in those halcyon days, patriots waited anxiously for the detonation of the dynamite that would blast the alien agents from their positions of control in the intelligence and paramilitary agency that is financed by American taxpayers. It is said, however, that surreptitious persecution by the C.I.A. was soon resumed, and that Goleniewski was covertly threatened with eviction from his apartment, together with his wife and little daughter, and given hints that he was likely to be run over by a heavy truck when crossing a street. If true, that may explain a great deal.
Soon Goleniewski — the defector himself, according to men who knew him personally and insist they could not be deceived by even the most clever substitute — began to tell his friends a story that Van Wyck Mason or Helen MacInnes would never have dared to imagine for one of their sensational novels of espionage and international intrigue. He disclosed to Messrs. Richards and Capell his tremendous secret: he was the son of Nicholas II, the last Czar of Russia; and therefore himself the legitimate monarch of all the Russias and heir to the vast personal fortune of the Romanoffs.
Now everyone knows that after the Bolsheviks captured Russia by progressive application of the usual technique of humanitarianism and terrorism in 1917-1918, the Czar, the Czarina, their four daughters, and their one son were imprisoned at Ekaterinburg, where they were subjected to various hardships and humiliations, until the White Russian Army under Admiral Kolchak advanced to rescue them. They, and the four faithful retainers who had remained with them, were brutally murdered on the night of July 16, 1918, the corpses vilely abused and hurriedly cremated, and the remains thrown into an abandoned mine. Their killers, having no stomach for a real fight, decamped across the steppes. A few days later Ekaterinburg was occupied by the army of Admiral Kolchak, who conducted a prompt and thorough investigation of the massacre. The incontrovertible findings are clearly stated by Robert Wilton, special correspondent of the London Times, in The Last Days of the Romanovs (London, 1920; recently reprinted by photo-offset in this country). Persons who desire even more details may go to the report of the magistrate who interrogated the eyewitnesses: Nicholas Sokolov, Enquere judiciaire sur l’assassinat de la famille imperiale (Paris 1924).
Now everyone knows that when a person of high rank or other distinction dies and the body is not publicly displayed, as surely as the flowers come in the springtide, there will be a crop of impersonators. Several issues of Instauration would be needed merely to list the impersonations that have left some mark on history since one of the Magi impersonated the murdered brother of Cambyses and ruled the Persian Empire for a time. In the decade that followed the death of Nero, who was as much beloved by Orientals as he was hated by Romans, three successive impersonators were able to attract large followings in the Eastern provinces, and one of them, heralded by Jewish prophecies, almost precipitated another civil war. The list is endless.
The art has naturally been practiced in Russia, and one of the most spectacular successes in impersonation was achieved by the imposter who, replacing a murdered Czarevich, ruled all Russia for about a year as Demetrius I. There was even a wild story, believed by many, that Alexander I had faked his own death to avoid assassination, and had gone to Siberia to live out the rest of his life in rustic content and tranquillity as a moderately prosperous farmer. And, needless to say, after the murders at Ekaterinburg, Romanoffs boasting of miraculous escapes popped up in an almost steady succession. For some reason, perhaps because her name means “resurrected,” the Grand Duchess Anastasia has been most in the limelight, and at least six Anastasias have attracted considerable notice in recent years — in fact one of them found new sponsors in two journalists who have just published a potboiler entitled The File on the Tsar. (They argue that only Anastasia, now a resident of Charlottesville, Virginia, had escaped alive.) It would be tedious to list all the Romanoffs that have bloomed in the springs since 1918, but many will remember Prince Michael Romanoff, a self-starting Brooklyn Jew named Harry Gerguson, who tablehopped in Manhattan bars in the 1930s, amusing and bemusing the customers with feats of amateur legerdemain for “anything you care to give,” before moving out to Beverly Hills, where he operated a high-priced, no-star restaurant for the celluloid haute monde.
When another miraculously preserved Romanoff materializes these days, the normal reaction is a weary smile, but I suppose that if one were sitting opposite a man who calmly announces that he is His Imperial Highness, Czar of all the Russias, August Ataman of the Cossacks, etc., one would simply gulp. Goleniewski’s friends not only gulped: they swallowed.
The tale told by the new Romanoff has been edited and revised so often that I must be excused from attempting to enumerate and date the various recensions, but the bare essentials of all the early versions may be summarized as follows:
The Imperial Family was not murdered at Ekaterinburg — far from it. King George of Britain and Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany cooperated to rescue their kinsmen, and their secret services, by use of lavish bribery, effected the escape of Nicholas II, the empress, and their five children, who were taken eastward across Siberia to Vladivostok, where they embarked (incogniti, of course) on a steamer that brought them to the United States. Crossing the continent by train, they caught a liner that took them back to Europe. (Later edition: They escaped southward through White Russian territory to Odessa on the Black Sea, where a British battleship was waiting for them.) Once safely ashore in some unspecified country in western Europe, the Czar, determined to remain in hiding and escape recognition, led his flock to Poland, a country which had been part of his dominions and where portraits of him and his family had been seen daily by every Pole who was not blind. In that country, which was in a state of virtual anarchy and menaced by a massive invasion of Bolsheviki from Russia, the Czar and his family tranquilly settled down as a family of modest Polish landowners, having accomplished the intellectual feat of instantly learning Polish, a language that differs greatly from Russian. The effort may have made Nicholas somewhat absent-minded, for he forgot all about the nest egg of $400,000,000 in gold that he had secretly stored in Swiss banks for use in the event of an emergency abdication. In Poland, preserving their happy pseudonymity, they lived in rustic content. The Czar and Czarina died eventually, and the head of the family became their only son, the Czarevich Aleksei, who, determined to smash the international conspiracy that had dethroned his father, became a Soviet agent under the plebeian name of Michael Goleniewski, rose to the rank of Major General in the N.K.V.D./K.G.B., and, having amassed data sufficient to amputate the Bolshevik octopus’s international tentacles, defected to the “Free World,” leaving his sisters in comfortable residence in Poland under their assumed names. The last detail was quickly amended.
The epiphany of His Imperial Highness appears to have taken place in the dingy office of Robert Speller & Son, a luckless and down-at-the-heels publishing firm that was reputed to make ends meet only by issuing the East Europe Magazine, a periodical subsidized by the C.I.A. Hoping to hit the jackpot with a “bestseller,” Speller & Son had just published the autobiography of the Grand Duchess Anastasia — not the Grand Duchess in Charlottesville, but the Grand Duchess in Chicago. Someone arranged a meeting between Goleniewski and that Anastasia, and, to judge by a new preface that Speller & Son promptly added to their book, a working agreement was soon reached. The Grand Duchess Anastasia (I am still referring to the Chicago line of Romanoffs) confessed that in her autobiography she had lied atrociously about the massacre of the Imperial Family, from which she alone escaped. In return, the Czarevich recognized his long-lost and beloved sister, and remembered a suitable story to account for her separation from the rest of the family on the way to their happy abode in Poland. The loving brother then folded his devoted sister in his arms, and we must suppose that the eyes of Speller & Son grew moist as they beheld that joyous reunion, for the company promptly averred that it had conclusively “verified” the august identity of both Romanoffs, and delicately intimated that if some lover of historical truth would put up the money, Speller & Son would gladly publish an autobiography of His Imperial Highness to match a revised version of the autobiography of Her Highness, the Grand Duchess Anastasia.
The story, thus completed with an anagnorisis worthy of Menander, is indeed pretty and touching, but what, we may ask, made it seem cogent to veteran journalists and experienced investigators? The only explanation I can offer is the vision of that $400,000,000 in glittering gold, plus interest compounded annually since 1917, waiting in the vaults of Swiss banks — a fortune that His Imperial Highness had sworn to devote to the utter annihilation of the International Communist Conspiracy, beginning, naturally, with condign rewards to the sagacious anti-Communists who recognized him when he at last revealed himself. Take pencil and paper. The 20,000,000 ounces of gold deposited in 1917 are now worth, at the average price last year, about three billion contemporary dollars. Now compute the accumulated earnings of those 20,000,000 ounces, assuming the low rate of 4% annually, and remembering that those earnings were also in gold, year after year since 1917. When you have calculated that total, do you not feel a warm glow in your consciousness, if not in your conscience? If you were an embattled anti-Communist, would not your mind’s eye be dazzled by the golden corona illuminating the Romanoff cause?
All this is speculation, of course. What is certain is that Goleniewski’s friends became True Believers, and, what is more, rushed into print with the Glad Tidings, even after they had been specifically warned by some of their acquaintances that (1) the story was so fantastic that, if published, it would destroy the credibility of the defector’s evidently accurate disclosures about Soviet agents and their hirelings in the Western world; and (2) the imposture was so crude that it must eventually cover with ridicule everyone taken in by it.
The editor of the New-York Journal-American, a hard-boiled journalist in the Hearst tradition, devoted himself to research to lend verisimilitude to Goleniewski’s claims, and produced a series of three widely sold books to prove that His Imperial Highness was indeed the son of Nicholas II. Mr. Frank Capell beat the drums for the newly discovered Czar in his publication and two books. And lesser figures joined the caravan headed for the vaults in Switzerland, notably a former member of the British Parliament, Peter Bessell, who suddenly remembered that he knew that in the secret files of the White House were documents concerning the escape of the Imperial Family and corroborating the identity of His Imperial Highness.
It is sad to relate that all these champions eventually failed to please their august patron. Guy Richards and the Journal-American were rewarded with a communication from Goleniewski’s attorney, a learned legal light who accused them of an offense that he twice spelled as “liable” and for which he demanded $10,000,000 instanter in compensation for damage to his imperial client’s reputation. The faith of Frank Capell earned him an advertisement in the New York Times, in which “Aleksei Nicholaevich Romanoff, The Heir to the All-Russian Imperial Throne, Tsarevich and Grand Duke of Russia, Head of the Russian Imperial House, etc., and August Ataman etc.,” assured the world
that I have neither supplied FRANK A. CAPELL with any information nor were he or other persons authorized to make any reference in said book to my person, my activities, my support of the national security of USA, etc. He misrepresented in his book my person and my activities through distortion of facts and left the impression that I am the source in certain cases, re: the affiliation of various high US officials to questionable circles.
To unmask and denounce the conspiracy of the scoundrels and liars who first befriended him in the United States and publicized his pretensions to czardom, His Imperial Highness founded in 1974 a monthly periodical, Double Eagle, written in a language that has many points of similarity to English. It is available from His Imperial Highness, etc. (Box 281, Murray Hill Station. New York City) at $24 per annum. Believe me, it’s worth it. From its pages you will learn the saga of the Romanoffs.
The latest version of that saga at the time of writing, which I hope will still be correct when this issue of Instauration goes to press, calls for very important revisions in the tale that I summarized above, imprimis:
1. Although Kaiser Wilhelm II did have something to do with the escape of the Imperial Family from Ekaterinburg, the real prime mover in their rescue was Vladimir Ilich Ulyanov, best known under his alias as Nikolai Lenin, the first Bolshevik ruler of Russia, whose tender heart could not bear the thought of shedding the sacred blood of the Romanoffs, and whose sagacious mind devised the hoax of a purported murder at Ekaterinburg as effective propaganda for communism.
2. The villains who contrived the revolution were not the Jews: they were those awful International Bankers, led by those damned Rockefellers, who are the fount of all evil in the world.
3. It was those nasty British, who under the dominion of the International Bankers, work ceaselessly to establish the “Pagan British Empire” planned by Sir Francis Bacon, who devised the hoax at Ekaterinburg and manufactured the evidence that the Imperial Family had been murdered by Mongolian troops under the command of two bloodthirsty Jews. On the contrary — very much on the contrary — are the true facts, viz., that the real agents in saving the Imperial Family were two sweet Jews, whose noble hearts were filled with love of All Mankind, etc., as is normal in God’s Own People.
4. That shimmering $400,ooo,ooo wasn’t safe in Swiss banks after all; it was in various places, especially Great Britain, where it was embezzled by the International Bankers, etc. One consequence is that His Imperial Highness is the true and lawful owner of Chase Manhattan Bank in New York City, to say nothing of other banks and property now in the illegal possession of the Rockefellers.
5. The dolorous plight of the world today is caused by a struggle between the True God of the Jews and Christians on the one hand, and on the other, Satan, who inspired Weishaupt to found the “occult Illuminatis’ [sic] order,” and inspired his other limb, Sir Francis Bacon (son of Elizabeth I), to concoct “Rosicrucianism (religion and healing)” and “Freemasonry (politics and science),” thus eventually “defying God’s decision” by “creating the nuclear bomb” to bring about the establishment of the “Pagan British Empire.”
Those are the salient points. I resist the temptation to include others, for I must hasten to inform you of the truly world-shaking and mind-dazzling discoveries that His Imperial Highness’s profound knowledge of international conspiracy and cosmic wickedness has enabled him to make, notably:
(a) The celebrated Heydrich der Henker wasn’t really assassinated at Lidice in Czechoslovakia by a team of experts hurriedly flown in from Britain to save Admiral Canaris, Chief of German Military Intelligence, from exposure as a traitor. On the contrary, that assassination was a hoax staged by Hitler and Winston Churchill to permit the transfer of Heydrich to the United States, where he became Guy Richards, chief of the vast Nazi S.S. apparatus in this country and editor of the New York Journal-American, charged with the primary duty of slandering His Imperial Highness to impede His return to the throne of His ancestors.
(b) Nikolai Yezhov, infamous chief of the Soviet Secret Police (then called G.P.O.), was not liquidated by Dzhugashvili, alias Stalin, in 1938. That was merely a hoax, staged by Stalin in collaboration with Hitler and Churchill, to permit the Jewish Yezhov to go to England and be elected to the Parliament under the name of Peter Bessell, and later to come to the United States and share with Heydrich, alias Guy Richards, command of the vast Nazi apparatus that is subjugating this country for the Rockefellers. To be sure, if Bessell is Yezhov, he is now remarkably spry for a man of eighty-three, but that is probably because he has had to keep himself fit to prevent H.I.H. Aleksei II from being recognized as the lawful monarch of All the Russias, to the dismay of the Communists and the Rockefellers.
(c) That wicked man, Adolf Hitler, waren’t no German or Austrian. As his handwriting shows, he was an Englishman, none other than the man who was famous in 1888 as Jack the Ripper, and, what is more, he was probably the Duke of Clarence, eldest son of King Edward VII. This is proved by a photograph of Queen Elizabeth II, whose features show shock and horror, according to His Imperial Highness, at the mere mention of the dastardly Duke of Clarence. Now if this identification is correct, Hitler was eighty-one at the time of his (faked?) death in Berlin, but, as his Imperial Highness explains, his wickedness enabled him to retain his vim and vigor to an advanced age, so that he could advance Sir Francis Bacon’s scheme for a “Pagan British Empire.”
(d) Stalin’s son, Jacob, wasn’t liquidated after his father’s death. That was just a hoax, staged by the Nazi S.S. to permit the scoundrel to emigrate to Connecticut and be elected to the United States Senate under the assumed name of Thomas J. Dodd, and to join the plot against His Imperial Highness.
(e) If you think that Jesse James was just an American bandit, that shows how ignorant you are. He was a high officer of “the Rosicrucians’ Order under the Death’s Head,” an early version of the German S.S. Having been taught “second sight” and how to “go ‘out of Body’ separating his astral body from his physical body” by a “gifted” Negress owned by his parents, he joined the “British Secret Intelligence Service” and advanced Francis Bacon’s ”Divine Plan for a Pagan British Empire” by becoming one of the richest men in the world, and living “seventy-three incredible lives” under as many different names, for which lack of space forces me to refer you to His Imperial Highness. I need not add that the assassination of Jesse James in 1882 was just another hoax staged by the International Bankers. Whether Jesse is still flourishing, the Czar coyly sayeth not. Come to think of it, he may be Nelson Rockefeller.
I regret that I must deprive you of other revelations to set your thinking straight. I have given you enough to test your qualifications as a Christian Patriot.
After he exposed the diabolical machinations of Heydrich (alias Guy Richards) and some of the many other Nazis who came to the United States after distinguishing themselves under Stalin and Hitler (who were buddies), His Imperial Highness leaders sent around to “anti-Communist” leaders a dossier filled with documents that prove his identity and answer any objections that could reasonably be raised.
For example, there is that birth certificate which is dated August 16, 1922, while the son of Nicholas II was born on August 12, 1904. How does it happen that His Imperial Highness looks like a man in his early fifties, not like a man at seventy-two? That’s easy: being the Czarevich, he suffers from haemophilia, and that keeps a man looking young. Furthermore, the name ‘Goleniowski’ on the certificate is really a kind of conundrum that hints at his real identity: GO stands for golen, meaning ‘leg,’ to show that he is a little lame; LENI stands for Lenin, who cooperated in establishing the Imperial Family safely in Poland; OW stands for Volga, the river that flows through Russia; and SKI stands for Marshal Pilsudski, who had the birth certificate forged to provide young Romanoff with a fictitious identity. That explains everything — except why the Polish dictator thought he could protect an eighteen-year-old boy by providing him with a certificate to show that he had just been born.
There is in the dossier no document of greater probative force than the conundrum: if that doesn’t convince you, no other weirdly wonderful bit of evidence will, so I shall not go through the dossier item by item. You may be a Doubting Thomas, but Christian Patriots must have Faith in their Messiahs.
The most impressive verification of His Highness’s claims comes from Robert Welch, whose staff of high-pressure salesmen keeps the active membership of his Birch Society at about thirty thousand, despite the rapid turnover. Welch, to be sure, stops a little short of guaranteeing the claims himself, saying only that the weight of the evidence is on that side, so you must turn to the pages of his house organ, American Opinion. In the issue dated March, 1976, the lead article, entitled “The Tsar’s Best Agent,” was written by Alan Stang, a five-foot Jewish novelist whom some employees in Belmont regard as one of Welch’s supervisors. In that article, Stang, as advertised on the cover, “reviews detailed Communist proofs” that “the most important anti-Communist agent ever to reach the West” is, in truth, the noble and august son of Nicholas II, who, remember, was rescued from captivity and peril by two high-minded Jews. Hard must be your heart if it is untouched by Stang’s persuasive arguments. You will certainly be convinced — unless you look with an observing eye at the two photographs that Stang indiscreetly printed with his article. One of these shows the young Czarevich at the age of twelve or over; the other shows Goleniewski. From these photographs it is obvious that if Goleniewski is indeed the Czarevich, he at some time had his ears amputated and replaced with new models. Sceptics may think that unlikely, but such are not to be found in the Birch Society — not for long, anyway.
If I am correctly informed, all good Birchers, in deference to the infallible wisdom of their Savior and his beloved disciples, have faith in His Imperial Highness, and many estimable ladies with social pretensions eagerly await the day when they will exhibit in their very own drawing rooms a real live Czar of All the Russias, August Ataman of the Cossacks, etc.
The Faith has doubtless been strengthened since March, 1976. In December, 1976, Double Eagle contained an article on Rasputin, “Neither Devil Nor Saint,” cribbed with many modifications from the unmentioned book of the same title published by Mme. Elizabeth Judas ten years ago. From the article the reader will learn that Rasputin was a piously humble old fellow who worked miracles, “using Christian healing through prayers to God,” and who proved that the laws of biology can always be overruled by Jesus, who, when alerted by Rasputin, rescued the imperial author “at least by [sic] 10 various occasions from death.” Although the august stylist forgot to say so, he was probably counteracting with his personal authority the awful things that were said about Rasputin in that infidel journal Instauration (November, 1976).
More important, perhaps, is the issue of Double Eagle (September, 1976) in which His Imperial Highness delivered a scathing attack on Professor Arthur Butz, whose eminently scholarly and judicious book, The Hoax of the Twentieth Century, was noticed in Instauration. The August Ataman of the Cossacks was well ahead of the pack, for the hysterical screaming about the book in the media did not begin until late this January. The Jews can appeal to the new Czar, who, having resided in Poland from 1919 to 1961 and, as a Major General in the K.G.B., having directed the investigation of the nasty Nazi’s “war crimes,” knows from his own personal observation that six million Jews were killed in gas chambers before they left for the United States and elsewhere. The only thing that remains in doubt is whether Professor Butz is Alfred Rosenberg or Dr. Goebbels. His Imperial Highness seems as yet uncertain, so you will have to subscribe to Double Eagle to learn who the wicked Butz really is. Of course, he may prove to be Charles Darwin, another infidel, who, like Bacon, “defied God’s decision.”
It must be understood that I write with no animus against poor Goleniewski. I believe that the defector was shabbily, perhaps shamefully, treated by the C.I.A. I know how poverty and anxiety exasperate the minds and souls of men. I am truly sorry that this man did not have the skill of Henri Richemont or Karl Naundorff, who were certainly the best two of the thirty-eight replicas of Louis XVII that sprang up in the early Nineteenth Century. I wish that he had done his home work as well as the famous Tichborne Claimant, who, although only a small shopkeeper, even convinced Lady Tichborne that he was her son. I do hope that some kind soul will revive Mike Romanoff’s old restaurant and install in it another Czarevich, to whom it will give security and an opportunity to exercise the unquenchable showmanship that seems to come naturally to all non-Romanoff Romanoffs.
I commiserate most sincerely with Messrs. Richards and Capell, who so hopefully years ago made the bed in which they must now lie. The printed word endures, alas!
I enfold in silence the names of several prominent Americans who, rashly trusting Welch’s American Opinion, put into print “authentic” revelations that they must now sadly regret.
I have written this article reluctantly, for I always feel charity for the erring and sympathy for the unfortunate. It is only when I see pretentious fakirs and shysters in the patriotic business trying to capitalize on human credulity that my heart grows hard and obdurate.
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Source: Instauration magazine, April 1977